


two dead boys

by MissDinahDarling



Category: South Park
Genre: Adorable Leopold "Butters" Stotch, Aged-Up Character(s), Best Friends, Canon-Typical Behavior, Crack Treated Seriously, Cute Ending, Eric Cartman Being Eric Cartman, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Jealousy, M/M, Misunderstandings, Multi, Mutual Pining, Mystery, No Smut, Oblivious, Past Child Abuse, Polyamory, Pretentious Title, Protectiveness, Slurs Against Sex Workers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:08:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22135327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissDinahDarling/pseuds/MissDinahDarling
Summary: When Kenny and Craig continuously disappear every night for hours at a time, it raises Cartman’s suspicions until he arrives at an incredibly logical conclusion.They’re goddamn hookers.
Relationships: Craig Tucker/Tweek Tweak, Kenny McCormick & Craig Tucker, Kenny McCormick/Leopold "Butters" Stotch, Kyle Broflovski/Stan Marsh, Kyle Broflovski/Stan Marsh/Wendy Testaburger, Stan Marsh/Wendy Testaburger
Comments: 26
Kudos: 229
Collections: Dream_In_Color's Faves





	two dead boys

_one fine day, in the middle of the night,  
two dead boys got up to fight.  
back to back, they faced each other,  
drew their swords and shot each other_  
\- anon

“They’re totally hookers dude.”

“They’re not hookers, you fucking idiot!”

“Hey, Wendy says we’re supposed to call them ‘sex workers’ now.”

“They’re not sex workers either!”

“Hey, if anyone would know what sex worker looks like, it would be Cartman.”

Kyle winces when Cartman lands a solid fist into Stan’s shoulder. He grudgingly admits to himself that Stan deserves it because Liane has never been anything but nice to them, and Stan should probably be the bigger person when it comes to insulting moms, but Cartman is a dick, and any insult towards him and his entire existence is definitely warranted.

So… he guesses Stan doesn’t really deserve it after all?

“Fuck you Stan,” Cartman spits hotly, before turning back to face Kyle and Butters, “look, I’m tellin’ you, I saw what I saw. Kenny and Craig are sneaking out at night, blowing gross old dudes, cashing that shit in, and they’re not letting anyone else know ‘cause then it proves my point that poor people are greedy rats! I mean, just think of all the money we could make if we were their pimps!”

“Christ, Cartman,” Stan mutters, rolling his eyes as he rubs at his shoulder.

“Why else would I invite _Butters_? He’s the only asshole with experience around here,” Cartman carries on, jutting a thumb in Butters’ direction. The blond wilts, not really enjoying the sudden spotlight.

“I, ah, I don’t really want to be a pimp again fellas,” he says, looking rather nervous, “e-especially Kenny’s pimp…”

“Why, you don’t think he’d get you enough money? I mean, he’s kinda ratty-looking, but I bet he could earn a few bucks,” Cartman muses, stroking his chin. Kyle scowls and kicks Cartman under the table.

“You asshole,” he mutters, ‘cause the bastard has it all wrong.

Butters isn’t worried that Kenny’s not making enough money.

Dude’s probably all worked up over the idea of Kenny making _too_ much money.

Jesus.

“He ain’t ratty-looking! He… he… well. Oh, hamburgers Eric, what did you actually see?” Butters frets, and if Kyle didn’t know any better – and he does, he _so_ fucking does – he would say that the blond looks a little disheartened by Cartman’s whole theory. On the other hand, Cartman looks downright gleeful at the attention Butters is giving him; why Butters still hangs out with them is anyone’s guess. Kyle _really_ can’t explain that one.

“I saw that little rat Kenny hanging out with Craig behind the school last Friday,” Cartman begins, sitting back in his seat as he picks up a fry and examines it carefully, “they were acting strange, laughing and having fun, it wasn’t right! Naturally, I followed them, straight into Colfax Point – managed to get as far as the White Swallow Bath House before I lost them. I think we all know what _that_ area is popular for, right Butters?”

“The White Swallow Bath House?” Butters echoes with alarm, suddenly looking rather ill.

“So… you’re jealous,” Kyle hypothesises, ‘cause Cartman doesn’t just do dumb shit – there is, on some level, a logical explanation for his crap. He guesses this time it’s Kenny finding a new BFF – which, y’know. Good for him; it hasn’t escaped his notice that he hasn’t been hanging out with Kenny as often as they used to, but with college applications coming up, he hasn’t really had the time to hang out with _anyone_.

“I’m not jealous, Kyle!” Cartman denies with a glare, kicking his legs out with a huff.

“The bath house?” Butters cries out again, looking slightly ill and downtrodden as his gaze falls to the table.

His outburst goes ignored.

“You’re jealous because Kenny has a new best friend and now you want to ruin it,” Kyle carries on smugly, folding his arms as he shares a knowing look with Stan, “god, you’re so predictable. And there are other things in Colfax Point besides brothels, asshole.”

“Oh dude, if you’re upset ‘cause he’s hanging out with Craig, you should just tell him,” Stan suggests, shrugging as he nibbles at a chicken nugget; apparently being a hardcore animal activist cancels out the eating of meat, which Kyle still doesn’t get but also doesn’t have the energy to challenge, “no reason to accuse him of being of being a sex worker.”

“I’m not upset!” Cartman stresses, hunching his shoulders up defensively, “and why is it so unbelievable that Kenny would be a hooker?”

“Sex worker,” Stan corrects with a roll of his eyes, “and he wouldn’t do that shit with Karen around.” Which, in Kyle’s honest opinion, was probably Kenny’s greatest strength; his love for his little sister was something that Kyle couldn’t help but admire and something he could empathise with totally. He’d probably do _anything_ to ensure Ike was safe and happy – selling his body?

Well.

Uh.

He’d probably have to think about it first.

“Are you sure about that? I mean, he _has_ been a hooker before,” Cartman grins before Kyle holds up a hand with a sour expression flickering across his face.

“He has never been a hoo— sex worker,” he corrects quickly when he spies Stan’s mild disapproving frown; _Jesus_ , Wendy’s ‘woke’ attitude was infectious as shit, “Kenny has _never_ been a sex worker before – he just did gross shit for money.”

“Except for that one time where he blew Howard Stern for ten bucks,” Cartman points out, with a sharp smirk.

Kyle opens his mouth to argue; he closes it again and sighs.

“Goddammit, that was so fucked up,” he mutters sullenly.

“We don’t actually know if he did it though,” Stan asserts, sitting up straighter, “he could’ve gotten arrested before he had the chance.”

“Stan,” Cartman begins, slow and patient, with just the right amount of condescension – it grates on all their nerves, but Kyle’s most of all, “it takes, on average, ten minutes for the police to show up to a scene. _On average_. Combine that with the seven minutes that it takes for a gross old dude to start splooging and well my friends, I have some very sad news to deliver about the state of our good friend Kenny’s mouth.”

“Gross dude,” Stan wrinkles his nose, “how do you know this shit?”

Cartman gives him a dark look. “I’ve rung the cops enough times on my mom’s shitty boyfriends – I’m pretty much a pro at estimating this shit.”

“Boyfriends? Is that what we’re calling them now?” Kyle snorts, choking when Cartman kicks him hard in the shin. “Fuck dude, take a fucking joke!”

“Learn how to make a fucking joke!”

“Fellas, fellas,” Butters calls out, his tone soothing as he raises his hands up. He seems to have recovered from his earlier breakdown, but he still looks kinda haunted, “can’t we just ask them?”

Cartman looks at him like Butters has just made the dumbest suggestion that the world has ever seen and because of the words he has just uttered, several brain cells in their immediate vicinity have just died off. Kyle can tell what that look means because Cartman has told him, in exact detail, what it means the last time Kyle made some ‘bullshit’ suggestion.

It’s downright fucking _offensive_.

“Ask them? Butters, you are so goddamn stupid, it blows my mind,” Cartman snipes, shaking his head with disappointment.

Butters blinks. “Well, why not?” he probes, looking incredibly, and rightfully, lost.

Kyle snorts and cuts in before Cartman can start spewing more shit.

“He probably did,” he hypothesises smugly, “and he most likely got told to _fuck off_ , which is why he can’t let this shit drop.”

“B-But what makes you think they’re hoo— uh, sex workers?” Butters asks, leaning away when Stan shoots him a dry look. Kyle rolls his eyes and hopes that Stan doesn’t become PC Principal 2.0 – that would suck.

“True, they could be fucking each other,” he adds, smiling apologetically at the look of horror on Butters’ face, “what? They _could_.”

“No way dude,” Stan says, shaking his head, “Tweek would _totally_ kill Craig for cheating on him.”

“Pretty sure Tweek would totally kill Craig for selling his body too,” Kyle says with a wrinkle of his nose.

“Well, I guess it’s a good job that no one is selling their body then, huh?” Butters chimes in, his tone hopeful and light, with a sad smile on his face.

“Yep,” Kyle says with a pop, giving Cartman a pointed look.

“Oh, fuck you guys! It’s not a crazy theory, okay? Besides, it’s not like I’m the only one who thinks they’re hookers, right Stan?” Cartman asks, turning to Stan with a pointed glare.

“What? When have I ever called them—” Stan begins, his tone disbelieving.

But not even Kyle can defend him this time around…

“Oh shit. Yeah dude, don’t you remember? You literally called Craig a prostitute that one time,” he reminds his friend tiredly, “a _money-hungry, alcoholic prostitute_ , if I recall.”

“Yeah, and we all remember how shook Craig was, right?” Cartman asks, all too eagerly as he brandishes a fry at Stan, ketchup dripping from it and flying across the table. It creeps Kyle out to hear Cartman say ‘shook’ – he sounds like an old man, trying to get down with the kids. Which.

Well.

 _Ew_.

“You can’t hold that against me—”

“Um, yes, I totally fucking can—”

“—I was in a messed-up place at the time—”

“—when are you not?”

“—besides, I barely meant it!”

“Really?” Cartman asks, leaning towards Stan with a sharp grin, “you say a lot of things you barely mean, Stanley?”

“Don’t call me Stanley, asshole,” the brunet throws back, “and shut the fuck up. I was ten, he was ten. That doesn’t fucking count.”

“So?” Cartman asks, rearing up with a disbelieving snort, “Kenny was ten when he sucked off Howard Stern!”

“Which we’ve already established _hasn’t_ actually been confirmed and is still totally fucked up,” Kyle mutters, rolling his eyes and freezing when he sees the broken, despondent look on Butters’ face, “hey… are you okay dude?”

Butters jolts and flushes when he realises that he has the attention of the table.

“O-Oh, yeah! Sure I am,” he says, with a fake grin on his face. He looks around quickly and it’s obvious what he’s doing, but Kyle doesn’t have it in him to just call him out on his lie, “I, uh. I just… need to go home, yeah, I have to. Um, my _dad_ needs me at home – I’ve gotta go otherwise I’ll get grounded.”

Kyle swaps an unimpressed look with Stan.

Yeah, no one’s buying this shit.

“No problem dude, we’ll see you tomorrow?” Stan says, tilting his head with a wry smile. Butters nods eagerly and slides out of the booth, leaving behind half a burger, most of his fries and two-thirds of a chocolate shake. Kyle growls softly when Cartman eagerly snatches up Butters’ plate and drink – Jesus, the dude hasn’t even _left_ yet.

“Sure fellas,” Butters says, giving them a little wave. Kyle’s heartstrings tug sharply when he spies the wetness that gathers in the blond’s eyes and the ashen appearance that grows across his face, “see you later!”

Then he’s quick to abscond, sniffing quietly as he leaves.

He sighs as Cartman begins dipping fries into Butters’ leftover shake and then shoving them into his own mouth – literally, no fucking shame. _Christ_.

“His crush on Kenny is getting painful,” Stan notes, gazing at the diner’s exit with an odd gleam in his eyes, “we have to do something about it.”

“Oh puh-lease,” Cartman drawls between bites of dairy-sodden fries, “ _Butters’_ crush is painful? Really? Like you have any room to talk!”

Kyle blinks, furrowing his brows as he peers at Stan – his SBF’s pale face has grown paler, his eyes widening with an interesting mix of horror and mortification. He… doesn’t think he’s _ever_ seen Stan look like this, holy shit.

“Dude, what’s he talking about?” he asks cautiously, nudging Stan.

“N-Nothing!” Stan rushes out, his white face flushing pink as he averts his eyes. Kyle watches, suspiciously, as Stan chokes on a handful of fries and decides to drop it for now.

“Are you thinking about breaking up with Wendy again?” Kyle asks, because what the heck? He could’ve sworn that Stan and Wendy’s relationship was practically perfect – sure, it had taken them like, four or five goes at it, but they had it pretty solid this time around. From the sounds of it though, Stan’s head was being turned, which has to be total bullshit, right? Stan would’ve told him this, _not_ Cartman.

Right?

“What, no!” Stan snaps back defensively, looking honestly confused and annoyed by the suggestion.

So, he _was_ right about Wendy and Stan being happy together.

Then what the fuck?

“Then what the fu—”

“Just drop it, Cartman’s just being a dick, right Cartman?” Stan asks hotly, glaring at their supposed friend.

“Oh, sure Stan, just use me as your scapegoat, see how far that gets you,” Cartman says dryly, before standing up to flip them off, “now if you’ll excuse me – I have two hookers to expose.”

“ _Sex workers_!” Stan corrects loudly, exasperated and uncaring of the attention he receives from the people around them. Kyle just shoots them an apologetic smile and slowly slides down his seat, wishing for the sweet release of death.

Somehow, he just knows that Cartman won’t allow him to avoid this shit.

* * *

“Dude, they think we’re hookers.”

“Please tell me you’re just fucking with me.”

“I ain’t – seriously, Stan just texted me. Cartman thinks we’re sucking dick for cash!”

“I hate him so much.”

“You want to tell him the truth?”

“… nah, fuck him.”

* * *

“Hey Kenny?” Butters asks, two days later, “can I ask you something?”

Kenny hums from where he’s sitting, a needle hanging from his mouth as he concentrates on mending Karen’s ballet costume. Butters had been coming over to Kenny’s for a while to help Karen with her Swan Lake dress, having a surplus in tutus from when he used to dance himself.

Apparently, he has excellent taste in dresses – it’s silly, but Karen’s praise always leaves him floating happily for at least three hours.

“Where do you go at night?” he questions, tearing his gaze away from Kenny to focus on his own project at hand. Karen had instructed him that her leotard needed two perfectly sequined and feathered wings on the back; it’s a job he’s taking very seriously. After all, the way to Kenny’s heart was through Karen – plus, she was super cute and seeing her smile did make Butters happy. “With Craig, I mean,” he clarifies, just in case he wasn’t clear before.

Kenny snorts softly and takes the needle out of his mouth, slowly sewing a set of feathers to the white tutu between his deft fingers.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” he murmurs, his blue eyes flashing mischievously over his work at Butters.

“W-Well yeah!” he replies, flushing, “it’s why I asked!”

Kenny bites his lip and his eyes flutter back down to Karen’s costume.

“You’ll see,” Kenny replies easily, “soon enough. Me and Craig are just working on a thing. It ain’t bad, it’s just… I don’t know, a _thing_ we’re busy doing. We’re only keeping it a secret ‘cause we don’t want everyone poking their noses into our business, fuck.”

“Oh, I-I’m sorry,” Butters says, flushing as he looks away shamefully.

“Nah dude, you don’t have to apologise to me,” Kenny says, grinning at him, before gesturing towards the hot glue gun in Butters’ hand, “but you might need to say sorry to Karen if you don’t get your ass into gear.”

“Oh, jeez!” he cries, when a string of hot glue falls and narrowly misses one of his painstakingly created wings. He jolts and carefully moves the gun away from the leotard, pursing his lips as he overhears Kenny’s soft giggle. It is such a sweet sound – it has Butters’ heart floating all giddy-like in his chest.

“So, how’s your college application?” Kenny asks conversationally, furrowing his brows as he begins to sew two pieces of silver mesh together, “you’re still applying, right?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Butters says, sticking one white feather down, “I don’t think college is for me…”

There’s a beat of silence and then he hears Kenny hum thoughtfully.

“Is that what you think?” he asks, light and without judgement, “or is that what your parents think? Or your shitty grandma?”

Butters flinches and curses when his finger comes close to a strand of hot glue.

“I, I… that’s not,” he trails off, wildly searching his mind for an explanation – ‘cause it’s not so much what other people think, he just. He just doesn’t really think he’d be any good at a fancy college, “y’know, college ain’t for everyone!”

“Yeah, I know that,” Kenny agrees easily, “but. Y’know. You’re real clever – I could see you doing some fancy business degree, or in management, or something. You know, shit you already have experience with?”

Butters swallows hard as Cartman’s voice floats to the forefront of his mind – god, why won’t people just forget his pimping past?

“I mean, Professor Chaos rocked with his empire of minions,” Kenny says, with a small chuckle, which. Oh wow. Has Butters’ cheeks glowing from pride.

“Well, thanks Kenny!” he exclaims, straightening up with a gleeful smile, “a-and what about you? Are you applying for any colleges?”

Kenny snickers to himself, before shrugging lazily.

“Don’t know,” he says, noncommittally, “I’m… thinking about it.”

“Well,” Butters begins, chewing on his lip, “I’d think you’d do swell in college! You’re smart and, and people really like you and… and well, I think you’d do just fine!”

He feels his cheeks prickle with heat when Kenny glances up at him in surprise – his stomach somersaults and flips when a slow, sweet smile stretches across the blond’s lips.

“Thanks Leo,” he says, quiet and gentle. Butters bites back a bashful smile and glances down at the wings in his lap again. A comfortable silence blossoms between them as they continue working on Karen’s costume. Darn, she’s gonna be the prettiest swan on the stage after they’ve finished!

Speaking of pretty things, however…

Slowly, when he’s sure it’s safe enough to do so, Butters glances up and eyes Kenny’s form – lucky for him, the boy’s focus has returned to Karen’s costume, innocently ignorant to Butters checking him out. He can almost inwardly hear his father scold him for shamelessly objectifying another boy, but he can’t resist; especially when Kenny is just so close to him.

As a boy, Kenny’s body had clung to the baby fat of youth despite the malnourished childhood, which left him looking disproportionate at best – all round cheeks but gaunt body, which accompanied a perpetually dirty, freckled face, messy hair and crooked teeth. 

Kenny had been what his mom once called ‘ugly cute’.

As someone on the edge of manhood, however, Kenny is impossibly pretty. He has a slender body and long legs, with all traces of clinging fat having melted away into lean muscle – he has reportedly been working harder on getting healthier, with aims of moving out of his house as soon as he could with Karen in tow. He looks cleaner too, though his teeth are as crooked as ever and his hair is still a mess of blond waves and tangles. Butters watches him and feels a swoon coming on despite himself – the best thing about Kenny’s appearance is, and _always_ has been, his _eyes_. Large, almond-shaped eyes that flash different shades of blue depending on the light. Butters swears they turn purple at times too… when Professor Chaos comes up against Mysterion, he’s always floored by the intense violet glare that pierces everything it lands on. Paladin Butters is always stunned speechless when he catches the lilac gaze of his Princess – but regardless of who Kenny is at the time, Butters will always be left feeling like a puddle of pining goo whenever he catches Kenny’s eye. 

Secretly, and he hates himself for thinking it, he knows that Kenny would be a very successful hooker.

Especially if he works alongside someone like Craig, who epitomises the expression ‘tall, dark and handsome’. Butters bites his lip as his mind takes a sharp turn and careens his thoughts into something pensive and twisted. Craig has a thing for edgy blonds, everyone knows this – he likes them sweet with a spicy aftertaste, like Thomas who swore up a storm and allowed Craig to do his laundry whenever he got stressed. 

Tweek, despite being sensitive, anxious and sweet, could easily beat most boys in a fight, and his words could be cutting and cruel if you caught him in a bad mood. It’s easy to forget, but Tweek is feisty as heck and could definitely hold his own in a fight, should the situation warrant it.

Thinking about it, Kenny is Craig’s type all over – a pretty blond boy with a filthy mouth and little fucks to give. They would make such a gorgeous couple, all long legs and glimmering eyes; a lump grows in Butters’ throat as he imagines them together, limbs all tangled up as they exchange smoky-sweet kisses. He can’t compare to Craig – he’s just dumb little Butters, boring and uninteresting.

Kenny could have anyone he desires, so why would he _ever_ pick him?

“Oh shit, Butters!” Kenny cries out, and Butters isn’t sure why until a sharp burning pain blossoms in his finger and then races up his arm.

“Ah!” he yelps, dropping the gun to clutch at his hand. A thin rope of glue has dropped and coiled along Butters’ knuckles, the skin burning and flaring red. He jumps to his feet, eyes wide with alarm as he allows Kenny to drag him into McCormick’s kitchen and over to the sink. Kenny gently grabs his wrist and places his hand under the cold tap, the water cooling and soothing over the burnt skin. Butters hisses in pain, automatically yanking his arm back at the shocking sensation.

“Hey, hey, it’s cool,” Kenny fusses, rubbing his thumb over the bony part in Butters wrist, gently leading Butters’ hand back under the faucet, “just keep it there for a few minutes, I’ll look for something to get the glue off.”

“Geez, can’t we just rip it off?” Butters winces, twisting his hand slowly under the water.

Kenny snorts. “Not if you want to rip off half your skin too,” he warns, wiggling his fingers in Butters’ direction, “learned that the fun way.”

Butters frowns – Kenny’s body is riddled with scars and his hands are no better. They have tiny callouses and burns decorating the skin; he’s certain that most of them come from Kenny’s many deaths, which makes him sad to think about, but he guesses they’re also a sign of Kenny’s many lives too.

Which. Well, still sorta makes him sad to think about.

“Here we go,” Kenny mutters, pulling out a bottle from a barren cupboard before presenting it to Butters like it’s a trophy, “nothing like a little oil to get the glue off. Kevin taught me this shit, so you know it works.” He reaches over and turns off the faucet, smiling softly at Butters as he whimpers in pain. Carefully, Kenny takes Butters hands and pours a small amount of olive oil over Butters fingers – he rubs it gently over the solidified glue, before slowly tugging and pulling it away from Butters’ fingers.

Butters gasps and winces, choking back a whine of pain when it finally tears free.

“Sorry,” Kenny murmurs, tossing the olive oil and the glue onto the counter to softly massage Butters’ injured hand. Butters swallows as Kenny’s fingers work their magic, the pain flaring up slightly before slowly ebbing away.

“Thanks Kenny,” he whispers, face burning when Kenny’s laughing eyes darken around the edges.

“My pleasure,” he winks, before biting at his lip, looking down at their hands. Slowly, their fingers link together, and Butters feels his breath catch in his throat. He roughly swallows when Kenny glances up again, his bright blue eyes clear and curious. Butters is close enough that he can spy every little freckle dancing across Kenny’s nose – subconsciously, he feels himself sway closer, as if magnetised by the pretty boy in front of him.

His eyes drop to Kenny’s red lips, dry and peeling in the cold weather.

Kenny’s tongue darts out to wet them and Butters suddenly feels like he’s been dropped in ice.

“I, ah, I should get going,” he stammers, tearing himself away from Kenny, his eyes wildly searching the room for his bag, “my dad will ground me if I don’t get back in time for dinner!”

Kenny lets him go without a fight – Butters scurries across the room to collect his things, his head ducked low as he slowly mutters darkly to himself. God, he’s such an idiot, how could he have almost _kissed_ Kenny just then, what was wrong with him?

“I, ah, I’ll see you later,” Butters stammers out, hurrying over to the front door without looking back. He absently hears Kenny calling out his name, but he’s too embarrassed to even think about turning around, so he rushes out of the front door and scampers on home.

He counts his lucky stars that his dad is out of the house when he gets in – it’s just his mom who is busy preparing dinner, humming a cheery song under her breath. No matter how complicated his relationship is with his parents, he always feels a soft affection for his mother. She greets him quietly, brushes a kiss against his forehead, and asks how his day was.

Butters forces a grin on his face and hides his injured hand behind his back, gives her some bullshit excuse before he holes himself away in his room. Kenny’s sent him three texts in quick succession, hoping that he’s okay and to come around soon to finish Karen’s costume – apparently, she loves it so far, but has demanded more sequins to be used.

Butters chuckles and falls back onto his bed with a dreamy sigh – he figures he might as well stay here to avoid bumping into his parents again.

He’ll only get grounded if they find out he got himself hurt.

* * *

“This is a stupid idea,” Kyle hisses, ducking quickly when Cartman waves at his face irritably.

“This is a great idea, stop being a fucking killjoy,” he bites back, grinning widely when they enter Tweek Bros. Coffeehouse. It seems to be a pretty slow day, ‘cause there’s literally no one else inside. Kyle guesses that this is a small mercy – the less people around, the less likely that Cartman’s bullshit theory will spread across town.

The last thing Kyle needs is to get involved in a fucking rumour mill about hookers.

God, his mom would _murder_ him.

“Good morning Tweek,” Cartman greets jovially, his smile widening when Tweek waves jerkily in response, “a cup of your finest cocoa, thank you.”

“We don’t do cocoa,” Tweek sighs, sounding resigned – Kyle guesses it’s because Cartman always asks for a fucking cocoa and, as usual, Tweek has to tell them that his family don’t stock that shit, it’s a fucking _coffeehouse_ , Christ, Cartman, you dumb fuck!

“Tweek, you continue to disappoint,” Cartman sighs mournfully, “but fine, I’ll have a lemon and honey tea, hold the honey and lemon.” He slams down five bucks and waits for his change, rocking on his heels with a grin.

“That’s just hot water!” Tweek cries in disbelief, despite noting down the order regardless. Kyle watches as Tweek takes Cartman’s money and hands over the change; out of everyone he knows, Tweek is the one who has physically changed the least. His blond hair is still wild, and his blue eyes are bright and erratic – the only thing missing were the bags under his eyes that had seemed permanently etched onto his face when they were younger. Tweek looks well-rested nowadays, but the years of addiction have clearly left their mark on him.

Still, Kyle can’t help but feel glad that the new meds seem to be working for the guy.

“Hey dude, I’ll just have a normal tea – Stan, do you want a tea, yeah? – yeah, make that two teas, thanks man,” Kyle says, pulling out a ten-dollar bill to cover the costs. Stan nudges him gently in the back as a silent thanks and wanders past him to sit at the nearest table with Cartman. “So, how you doing Tweek?”

“Oh, I’m okay,” Tweek replies with a small smile, taking Kyle’s money and checking the register for the change he’s due, “my dad’s finally let me cut down my hours, which should work out come the Fall.”

Kyle shakes his head. “Man, I can’t believe he’s still making you work,” he comments, “like, who works _and_ goes to college at the same time?”

“People who need the money,” Tweek replies with an arched brow, dumping Kyle’s change into his outstretched hand.

Kyle pockets it and tilts his head. “Dude, your parents have their own business,” he says, wrinkling his nose, “do you really need the money?”

“It’s not for me,” Tweek says, before turning away from Kyle to prepare his order. Kyle takes the silent dismissal with ease and merely shrugs it off; he makes his way over to Stan and Cartman and sits with them, silently contemplating Tweek’s answer.

He watches as Tweek bustles behind the counter – it’s been a while since he’s hung out with Craig’s gang and it seems pretty shitty that the first conversation he’s gonna have with Tweek is about someone else, but inwardly he promises to catch up with the guy properly. He likes Tweek and he really hopes that this whole ‘Craig-is-a-hooker’ nonsense doesn’t ruin their friendship.

“So, did he say anything?” Cartman prods, elbowing Kyle in the side.

“No Cartman,” Kyle sighs, absently rubbing his ribs, “he didn’t say anything.”

“Tough nut to crack, huh?” Cartman muses, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

Stan pinches the bridge of his nose and shakes his head. “His life doesn’t revolve around Craig, y’know?” he says, sounding tired and just utterly done with life.

“The fuck it doesn’t,” Cartman scoffs.

“No Cartman, it really doesn’t!”

“Don’t shout in my shop!” Tweek chastises sharply, approaching their table with a tray, “what are you guys even yelling about – wait, don’t answer that, I don’t want to know!”

“Tweek, my good friend, how’ve you been, business doing good, family alright?” Cartman shoots off the questions casually, inspecting his nails before flicking a curious glance upwards, “how’s Craig?”

Tweek wrinkles his nose and shifts his grip on the tray as he gazes back suspiciously.

“Why don’t you ask him yourself?” he asks cautiously, annoyance threading through his words.

“I would, but… well, you _are_ his boyfriend, what else am I gonna ask you about?” Cartman asks, tilting his head innocently, despite the flickering irritation in Tweek’s eyes, “unless… you haven’t spoken to him recently? Is there trouble in paradise?” He holds a hand to his mouth, faux-shock plastered across his face – it makes Kyle want to punch him in the throat.

“Jesus Cartman. Listen dude, sorry we’re asking you this, but are you on or off with Craig this week?” Stan asks bluntly, ignoring Kyle’s scowl when Tweek finally places their order onto the table: two teas and a glass of water. Cartman glares at the glass irritably, clearly miffed that he didn’t get to have a fancy teacup too but _fuck_ him.

Tweek rolls his eyes at Stan’s query and scoffs, tucking the tray under his arm. “When have we ever been off?” he asks, clearly annoyed that he’s about to be dragged into their shit again. Well, it’s either that, or he’s annoyed that he’s become the one-stop-shop for Craig gossip. Damn, Kyle would be pissed off too if that’s all he got reduced to…

“That time with the Buddha Box.”

“That time with the superheroes.”

“That time with the president tweeting you.”

“That time with the—”

“ _Nngh_ , shut up,” Tweek interrupts briskly, clearly not in the mood for entertaining dumbasses today, “none of those even count, we were like ten!”

There’s a beat of silence that stretches awkwardly as they all stare up at Tweek.

“But,” Stan says, hesitant as he flicks Kyle a look, “but _are_ you together this week?”

Tweek sighs and dumps the tray onto a nearby table. “Yes,” he says, “why do you care?” He leans against the table and crosses his arms; Kyle can feel the suspicious aura from where he’s sat and just _knows_ that this probably won’t end well.

He really doesn’t know how they haven’t been banned from Tweek Bros. Coffeehouse yet.

“We don’t, we just think you should know that Craig—” Cartman starts gleefully, leaning forward towards Tweek with a glint in his eye.

“No, no, no, no,” Kyle chants, cutting in quickly, “ _you’re_ not telling him shit!”

“Then _you_ do it then, you fussy bitch,” Cartman snaps back.

“Fine, I will!” Kyle says, confident until he looks at Tweek and realises that he’s probably made a massive mistake – the blond looks incredibly annoyed, his body twitching irritably as he glares at them, “Look, dude, we don’t know how to tell you this,” he begins, halting and unsure, “but your boyfriend is... well, Cartman thinks he’s a... he’s kind of a... you see, at night, he—”

“We think he’s cheating on you by blowing dudes for cash,” Stan cuts in, looking like this shit was just getting too painful to watch.

Tweek’s eyes widen as he stares at them in horror.

“Why would you even _say_ that?” he demands, throwing his hands into the air with a violent twitch, “Craig would _never_ cheat on me!” Oddly enough, he sounds incredibly certain as he leans towards them with a fire in his eyes. Kyle automatically holds up his hands and sheepishly grins up at Tweek.

“Are you sure about that?” Cartman demands, slamming a fist onto the table.

“He _isn’t_ a—”

“How can you be sure?” Cartman asks again, interrupting Tweek who shrieks and slams his own hands onto the table.

“Craig _isn’t_ a cheater!” Tweek says, again, screwing his eyes shut as he fists his own shirt, “stop _saying_ that shit! Even if he needed money, he wouldn’t go to random strangers and, _nngh_ , sleep with them! Oh god, he knows the dangers that come with unregulated sex work; the chances of contracting a disease alone are just too high!”

“But what if—”

“And even if he did _want_ to become a sex worker, he’d _tell_ me first,” Tweek carries on, insistent and completely certain of what he’s saying. Kyle feels a flicker of jealousy towards the relationship Tweek has with Craig, and not for the first time either – the amount of trust they have with each other is something Kyle admires but also envies in equal amounts. “This isn’t the kind of thing he would do behind my back!”

“Are you sure ab—”

“ _No_ , I’m not listening to this,” he says with an air of finality, before pointing to the door, “get out of my, _ahh_ , coffeehouse! Jesus, I need to clear my head – _god_ , you’ve ruined my day and it isn’t even noon!”

Tweek doesn’t wait for them to leave though, as he turns on his heel and stalks towards the backroom.

“Wait!” Kyle calls out, regret flooding his chest and spreading throughout his veins, “where are you going?”

“To mediate!” Tweek snaps back, not bothering to grant Kyle a second glance, “so you better not be here when I get back!” And with that, he disappears into the backroom, the door slamming shut behind him.

“Goddammit Cartman,” Stan sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, “you’ve pushed Tweek into a breakdown and you’ve probably caused shit for him and Craig, you happy now?”

“Obviously not, Stan,” Cartman sasses back, “now I just have more questions – how is it possible for Craig to just do this without Tweek knowing? He must’ve told _someone_ his dirty secret!”

Kyle holds up his hands. “Okay, now I’ve reached my limit,” he stands up and picks the little teacup up; he makes his way over to the counter and snatches up a paper takeout cup. Pouring the tea in, he places the teacup onto the counter and turns around. “I’m leaving,” he announces shortly, “try and avoid ruining any more relationships today.”

He expertly ignores the slur thrown at his back as he exits the shop.

* * *

“Kinda weird that they don’t think _we’re_ fucking.”

“It’s ‘cause they know I have standards.”

“Woah, fuck you too Craig, I totally tick all your boxes, don’t lie to me.”

“Kenny, if I ever had the inclination to cheat on Tweek, which I _don’t_ , you’d be the last dick on earth I’d want to jump on.”

“On earth? Dude – like, even a shark’s dick would be better than mine?”

“A shark’s dick infested with AIDs _and_ covered in barbed wire. Yep.”

“That’s fucked up.”

“What’s fucked up is this shit right here – what the hell am I supposed to do with this?”

“Oh weird, I was literally gonna ask you the same thing.”

“Dude, you said you were listening!”

“I lied!”

“Fuck.”

* * *

“—so I told Jimmy who said he would talk to Clyde because if anyone can get Craig to admit that he’s sucking guys off, it’s—”

“Are we still talking about this?” Kyle demands, glaring at Cartman with irritation clear in his eyes. They were sitting in Ronny’s Diner, having been lured there with the promise of free breakfast – when they had arrived, Cartman had already ordered their favourites, which should’ve been Butters’ first red flag, to be honest.

Whenever Cartman wants to manipulate them into doing his shit, he _always_ tries to bribe them in some way first.

Oh _god_ , Kyle looks mighty mad.

“Yes Kyle, we’re talking about this!” Cartman spits back, “Kenny blew me off on Friday! He was supposed to be coming around mine and he just _blows me off_? Who the fuck does that poverty-stricken asshole think he is? Especially when it’s fucking _Craig_ he’s hanging out with instead?”

Butters shares a glance with Stan and tries hard to stifle his own laughter. Cartman’s obnoxiously obvious envy is kinda cute, but he knows that confronting him about it would only get him punched in the face.

Kyle’s clearly not feeling that charitable though.

“Dude! Will you just admit that you’re jealous?” he demands – his patience has seemingly run out with Cartman, “god! How old are you? You’re like 18 and you still can’t handle someone else talking to your friend? Are you kidding me?”

“It’s not about that Kyle! It’s the goddamn principal of the matter – like, whatever the fuck he’s doing, he’s doing it with fucking _Craig_? Like, am I— are _we_ not good enough for that poor skank anymore?” Cartman asks, throwing his hands up in indignant disbelief.

“Don’t call him that!” Butters scolds Cartman hotly, but he goes completely ignored.

Stan just pats him on the shoulder and shrugs – he has the air of a man who’s used to going unnoticed when Cartman and Kyle get into one of their bullshit arguments, which, yeah okay. Butters guesses he _is_ used to it.

“When have you ever cared about _principals_?” Kyle asks, rolling his eyes, “and last time I checked, you weren’t Kenny’s keeper, so he’s at perfect liberty to do whatever he fucking wants!”

“Oh, how wrong you are Kyle!” Cartman bites back, “Kenny _isn’t_ allowed to do whatever he wants, not unless he consults me first! I’m his best friend, you ginger bitch, that’s how it works!”

“You possessive piece of shit, you need to— oh _goddammit_ ,” Kyle cuts himself off, his eyes growing wide with horror as he glances past Cartman. Butters watches as Stan arches a brow and looks across the diner to see what had caused such a reaction and—

“Oh dude, _weak_.”

—and they cower as they see Craig through the diner’s window.

Butters shrinks away with a soft curse when the stoic brunet stalks into the diner, scanning the room until his dark gaze falls onto their table. His fists are clenched by his sides and his lips are a thin line of displeasure – he radiates an air of cold fury and Butters knows they are _fucked_.

Craig never really grew out of being a skinny fucker, but he is a scrappy, mean fighter when he applies himself – which _yeah_ , is rare, but when Tweek’s involved, Craig normally defends his relationship with his fists first. That being said, the pimp inside Butters couldn’t help but give Craig’s body a brief once over. With his long limbs and sharp features, Craig _is_ incredibly handsome and would be quite the pretty earner – but his cold attitude wouldn’t exactly win him any regulars and Butters would bet all his pocket money that Craig’s a total pillow prince in bed.

Uh, which is something he probably shouldn’t be thinking about at all…

“Oh, hey Craig!” Cartman calls out, raising his hand in a jaunty little wave.

If anything, it causes Craig’s frown to deepen as he approaches their table.

“What,” he enunciates, “the _fuck_?”

Butters jolts in his seat – he can’t be sure, but he swears Craig’s eyes just crackled with a shocking blue hue. Oh god, he hadn’t been with the guys when they went to Peru, but he’s heard the stories. Subtly, he inches himself behind Cartman’s body – Professor Chaos might be able to control lightning, but Butters is not interested in becoming a toasted boy today.

“Is there a problem Craig?” Cartman asks innocently, batting his eyes.

It’s 0% effective.

Craig eyes him darkly, before looming in close.

“I am _not_ a hooker,” he says flatly, “and I would appreciate it if you’d not tell my boyfriend that, you assholes.”

“Huh, funny, sounds like something a hooker would say,” Cartman muses, “so how much are you making? Like, five hundred a night, six? Would you consider going into business with me for a slight cut? I could keep you safe, give you somewhere secure to stay whilst you choke on old man schlong, and all it would cost is a sweet little 40% of all your night’s earnings.”

Craig glares at him, soundly flipping him off.

“Stop harassing Tweek with your dumb fucking bullshit,” he demands acidly, the words coming out sharp and harsh, “and I’d trust _Mephesto_ with my fucking ass before going to you!”

Cartman gapes, clutches at his chest and rears up, outraged.

“How could you say that Craig?” he asks, “I only have your best interests at heart – well, more Kenny’s. How _is_ Kenny, by the way? I wouldn’t know, considering he’s made himself at home up _your_ ass. Gotta be an upgrade from his old hovel, I suppose.”

“He’s also had an upgrade in friends too,” Craig snipes back before he straightens up with a sigh when Kyle and Stan utter matching sounds of outrage. He casts a brief glance over them before he rolls his eyes, “you know, maybe if you weren’t such co-dependent, possessive pieces of shit, Kenny would actually just tell you guys what’s going on. But he hasn’t – wonder why that is.”

“Fuck you Craig!” Cartman hollers.

“I’m just saying,” Craig shrugs, before he turns to leave. He pauses and turns to throw them one last dry glare, “I told _my_ friends what we’re up to. If you guys don’t know, guess you have to ask yourselves why.”

Then he stalks out of the diner, seemingly pleased with the emotional carnage he’s left behind.

The silence stretches – Butters can sense the building outrage and it causes his stomach to twist uncomfortably. He’s always hated passive-aggressive atmospheres, where people rage in silence… it’s never led to good things.

Luckily, he doesn’t think these guys will blow up like his parents.

Well.

Not at _him_ , anyways.

“He’s such a fucking asshole,” Cartman declares, squinting at Craig’s disappearing form, “and he’s a liar – I bet he’s just mad ‘cause he’s not making as much as Kenny. This is just sad, you guys.”

“No, this is fucking _dumb_ you idiot,” Kyle argues with a roll of his eyes, “I mean yeah, he’s an asshole, but he’s not a liar!”

“Yeah Cartman, Craig’s not a sex worker!” Stan chimes in.

“God, he’s got you sucked into his web of deception too?” Cartman asks, drumming his fingers on the table as he hums thoughtfully, “he’s stronger than he looks. You know this means he’s totally lying to Tweek, right? God, Kenny cannot be seriously hanging around with a guy like that!”

“As opposed to a guy like _you_?” Kyle snipes quietly – a small smile appears on his face when Butters snickers under his breath.

“He doesn’t lie to Tweek,” Stan says firmly, “it’s like, his thing or whatever.”

Cartman scoffs, but Butters knows it’s true. Back in fourth grade, when Cartman had introduced Buddha Boxes to everyone, Craig ended up using his to block out his relationship troubles with Tweek. Combine that with Tweek’s paranoia and his insecurities, along with Craig’s fucking allergy to communicating properly, and you get one massive fucking argument that everyone in the whole town had heard. The whole sorry saga finally ended when Tweek took the issue to PC Principal, with a carefully constructed argument that accused the guy of ‘cultural appropriation’ and ‘belittling’ people with real mental health issues. His blistering attack on the guy was infamous and Butters knows that their ex-principal still has trouble meeting Tweek’s gaze to this day.

As for Tweek’s relationship with Craig, well. Butters isn’t exactly sure what had happened between them being bitter exes and then them getting caught making out in Mr Mackey’s office, nor does he _want_ to know what had happened, but since then they have been going strong with very little aggro between them, contrary to what _some_ people believe. Butters knows that they haven’t actually broken up in almost a decade and are sweetly adamant about how devoted and dedicated they are to each other.

It… it makes him happy.

But also? It makes him unbearably jealous too.

Whenever he’s stuck in his room, having been grounded for something trivial or dumb… Butters finds himself daydreaming about having a relationship like Craig and Tweek. About having someone there to support him and, and, and _care_ about him too. Someone who will rescue him and… and maybe someone he could rescue too? Like, like Craig rescued Tweek from _his_ parents, before they swore off meth for life. Could anyone really blame Butters for dreaming about getting the same thing? For fantasising about Kenny rescuing him?

Or… or even the other way around? He wouldn’t mind playing Paladin and Princess again…

Kenny sure is beautiful in a dress – especially when he does his face up all pretty, with lipstick and mascara and blush. It makes him look like a real girl and, and, and well. Kenny is _already_ cute as a boy, but Kenny as a _girl_?

W-Well. He’s just _extra_ pretty, prettier than _any_ Raisins Girl, that’s for darn sure. God, Butters always feels so floaty with butterflies whenever Kenny gets all dolled up, like his tummy does somersaults and his heart races in his chest and—

“Dude, _sick_!” Stan suddenly cries out, staring at Butters in horror, “are you seriously getting a boner over Kenny right now?”

“N-No!” Butters denies, feeling his face heat up, “shut up Stan!”

“Jesus Christ Butters, why don’t you just ask him out?” Stan asks, flicking a fry at him, “he obviously likes you – just ask him out instead of wasting your life _thinking_ about asking him out.”

“Dude,” Cartman snaps, disbelief written across his face, “are you seriously saying that, out loud, in front of my face. Dude. Seriously?”

Butters is pretty thankful, ‘cause even he’s also stunned by Stan’s blatant hypocrisy.

Stan flushes and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Please stop,” he begs, pained. Butters watches as Kyle shakes his head; he knows that the redhead is irritated ‘cause Cartman clearly has something over Stan, but he doesn’t know what exactly – Kyle is never fun to be around when he’s out of the loop.

His short temper just becomes… _shorter_.

“Okay dude, what is he talking about?” Kyle demands, staring at Stan irritably.

“It’s nothi—”

“Bullshit, just tell me!”

Cartman snorts. “Yeah dude, heh, tell him,” he giggles between bites of waffles, “tell him Stan, heheh, oh, this is gonna be good.”

“Shut up Cartman!” Kyle snaps, snatching the fork out of Cartman’s hand and throwing it over his shoulder. He clearly ignores the scandalised gasps he receives and focuses on Stan’s upset expression. “What’s he got on you Stan?”

Butters watches as Stan gapes, his mouth moving wordlessly as he tries to come up with an explanation. He would help, but then Stan had just embarrassed him, so.

Well.

 _Fuck_ Stan.

Butters picks up his juice and takes a pointed sip as he catches Stan’s desperate gaze. The brunet utters out a litany of nonsensical words and sounds, which only causes to visibly rankle Kyle further. The redhead’s face flushes with annoyance and he sits up in his seat, an air of self-righteousness radiating from him.

“What the hell is going on Stan?”

“I, uh, dude, I—"

“Oh guys, guys, can we shut up, can we all shut up please?” Cartman interjects roughly, his eyes are lasered in on his phone as he taps away excitedly, “it’s Clyde, oh shit, shut up! I’m gonna break this asshole, he’ll tell us what’s going on!”

Stan deflates by Butters’ side, relief plastered across his expression. Kyle settles back into his seat, his suspicious squint lingers on Stan for a second, before he drags his gaze across to Cartman. Butters watches as Cartman holds the phone out and answers Clyde’s call, making sure to hit the loudspeaker.

“Hey Clyde, how’s it goin—"

“Craig isn’t a prostitute dude,” Clyde interrupts, a frown clear in his nasal voice.

Kyle smirks smugly at the irritated expression on Cartman’s face.

“Oh, then what’s he doing Clyde?”

“I’m _not_ telling you.”

“Why, because you’re lying? Because you’re trying to cover up the _truth_?”

“No, it’s because I don’t like you.”

Stan smothers a snort with his hand, ducking his head quickly.

“Well fuck you too Clyde!”

There was a beat of silence as Clyde ends the call, only broken by Cartman’s heated pants – Butters hides his smile behind his straw as Kyle exchanges a look with Stan and shakes his head, smirking.

“Wow Cartman,” he drawls, eyeing Stan when the brunet’s giggles break through his hand, “you broke Clyde so good, I’m totally in awe of your skill.”

“Shut the hell up Kyle.”

* * *

“He went to fucking Tweek!”

“Shit, how did that go down?”

“Tweek told me to start saving up for his bail – pretty sure he’s two breakdowns away from snapping Cartman’s neck.”

“Sweet, hope someone records that shit.”

“I can’t believe he still thinks we’re sucking dick for cash.”

“Right? He’s so fucking dense.”

“You know who else is dense?”

“I swear, if you bring up fucking Butters—”

“ _Butters_? Dude, I’m talking about _Kyle_ , who the fuck brought up Butters?”

“… no one.”

“Wait, do you like—”

“Dude, you finish that sentence and I swear, I will leave you to suffer this shit by yourself.”

“No, you really won’t.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure I will – take a picture Tucker, ‘cause you won’t be seeing this pretty face anymore.”

“That’s not gonna happen – can’t avoid the brother of the girl who’s dating your sister.”

“… _what_?”

“What, you pissed?”

“Nah, I guess she could do worse than a Tucker—”

“Damn—”

“—would be pretty tight being your brother-in-law too.”

“—straight. Wait. _What_?”

* * *

This shit is getting ridiculous.

So ridiculous, that Kyle plans on visiting Kenny, eager to get the truth outta his friend and put an end to Cartman’s bullshit once and for all. He’s been trying to get the truth outta the blond for ages, but Kenny just blows him off or distracts him in some way or another. It sucks, but Kenny is very sneaky and clever when he puts his mind to it; Kyle refuses to let it happen again though, so he’s determined to finally uncover the truth. Unfortunately, the moment he leaves his house, he spies Stan and Wendy aimlessly chatting in Stan’s front yard; he had moved back to South Park with his mom and sister a few years ago, which had been awesome. Now? Kyle practically sees his plans crash and burn in front of him, which is not as awesome, but he’s not… really sure why? 

Why does he feel so awkward?

They haven’t seen him yet, so he falters in a weird limbo of fight-or-flight, except he isn’t sure what he’s supposed to be fighting and—

“Hey Kyle!” Wendy calls out and well, guess that’s his decision made for him. He awkwardly waves at them as he slowly makes his way towards the couple, cursing himself for not getting up earlier and then cursing himself for feeling so awkward, Christ.

It’s just Wendy and Stan, why is this so weird?

“Oh, hey guys,” he greets, stiffly kneeling down beside them, “sorry, am I gate-crashing?”

“ _No_!” Wendy and Stan say in unison, their voices rushed as they both gesture to the empty space next to them. Kyle blinks and dutifully sits next to them, feeling slightly unbalanced between their grinning faces.

“Are,” he begins, haltingly because something about this situation is pretty trippy, “are you okay?”

“Yeah dude,” Stan replies, unnervingly bright and cheery. Kyle blinks and nods slowly before turning to face Wendy. She is, as ever, effortlessly pretty with long dark hair and intelligent brown eyes – she looks good next to Stan and Kyle can’t help but note how well they complement each other.

Wait.

Is it weird to check out your best friend’s girlfriend?

Does this count as breaking bro-code?

Does it count when you’re also kinda checking out your best friend too?

“—dude? Hey, Kyle!” Flinching, Kyle shies away when Stan snaps his fingers in front of his face; he feels his cheeks flush as he sees the concerned looks being shot his way and he feels stupid for zoning out in front of them.

“Sorry, what was that?” he asks, drumming his fingers along his thighs nervously.

Wendy giggles and tilts her head. “I just wanted to know how your college application is coming along,” she says, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, “you’re still thinking about Stanford, right?”

“U-Uh, yeah,” Kyle confirms, shifting on the grass uncomfortably, “it’s a good college, but it’s still pretty close to Colorado, you know? My, uh, my mom wouldn’t like it if I went all the way to Harvard and I’m definitely not allowed to apply for Princeton.”

“‘Cause it’s in New Jersey?” Stan snickers, “dude, can you imagine trying to study law as Kyley-B?”

Kyle flushes and rolls his eyes, shoving at Stan when his friend throws his head back and laughs. It’s… a really nice sight, seeing Stan laugh. It’s definitely going to be something he’ll miss when he leaves South Park… shit.

He really doesn’t want to leave Stan behind, but.

But they’ll definitely keep in touch.

Like, once a day, at least.

He’ll only lose his shit if he doesn’t get constant updates.

“Shut up Stan,” Kyle admonishes, before turning to Wendy who simply looks entertained by their bickering, “you’re going to Yale, right?”

Wendy nods. “Yeah, but I also applied for Harvard too – their Poli-Sci course looks really good,” she says, twirling her hair around her finger, “but I’ll be happy wherever I end up, to be honest.” She then pauses and shoots him an impish smile as she playfully nudges her boyfriend, “it’s _Stan_ we need to work on—”

“Oh no, no, no, no,” Stan chants, holding up his hands and shaking his head, “I don’t need to be worked on.”

“But you’re seriously not going to apply?” Wendy asks, placing a gentle hand on Stan’s shoulder, “you would make a wonderful veterinarian, you _know_ this.”

“I… can we not, right now?” Stan says, sighing as he rubs his temples wearily; Kyle gets the feeling they’ve had this discussion multiple times before and it seemingly ends the same way each time, “I just. I don’t feel ready for college; like, everyone else might, but I. I just don’t. I mean, maybe in a year, I’ll feel different? But right now, I just. I don’t know.”

Wendy bites her lip and shoots Kyle a look; he only shakes his head at her, which leads to her blinking in realisation as a sad smile tugs at her lips.

“That’s cool dude,” Kyle says, grinning softly when Stan glances up at him, “you don’t need to know right now.”

“Yeah Stan,” Wendy chimes in, “I’m sorry for bugging you – I mean, I know college _isn’t_ for everyone, I just didn’t want you thinking that you weren’t smart enough for it, or whatever. ‘Cause you _are,_ and. Well, no matter what you decide to do, I’ll support you.”

“Totally dude,” Kyle adds, grinning when Stan’s face pinkens slowly, “and you have your whole life to figure out what you want to do! You’re clever and creative – you’ll definitely end up doing something cool for all the animals in the world!”

“Okay, okay, stop!” Stan begs, clasping a hand to his face, embarrassed and flattered all at once, “god, you two are relentless!”

“It’s only because we love you,” Wendy says, tucking her face against his and pressing sweet kisses against his cheek. Kyle’s super glad that they’re too busy being all affectionate with each other to notice the look of alarm on his face.

‘Cause holy shit.

“Yeah, I know,” Stan rolls his eyes, giggling when Wendy refuses to let up, “I love you guys too.”

 _Holy shit_.

“Stan, Wendy… do you two—”

“Hey guys, guys!” a voice, irritating and familiar, cries out and abruptly cuts Kyle’s words off. It utterly destroys any notion of him having a good day and he mourns the loss of the cosy atmosphere which had built up around Stan’s front yard.

Secretly though, he’s kinda glad… ‘cause he wasn’t really sure _what_ he was gonna say to Stan and Wendy anyways.

‘Cause.

Well.

 _Holy shit_.

“What do you want?” Stan asks, rolling his head against his shoulder to peer over as Cartman jogs up to them, his cheeks flushed from exertion and his eyes bright with excitement. Wendy arches a brow and Kyle can see that she looks somewhat concerned, but mostly disturbed by their new arrival.

“I have proof! I have proof that they’re banging old dudes!” Cartman cries out, waving his phone around gleefully. Despite the lack of invitation, Cartman throws himself onto the grass next to Kyle and thrusts his phone into their faces.

On the screen is a grainy, blurred image – Kyle can see Kenny and Craig, it’s kinda hard to _not_ notice them, really… but there’s a third person. An older guy, with dark hair and glasses – he’s glancing down at them with a small smile on his face, but there’s nothing about him that really screams _pervert_. Well, they’re all lingering by a car, but that’s not _inherently_ weird.

Is it?

“What am I looking at exactly?” Wendy queries, pushing Cartman’s phone out of her face.

Cartman’s shit-eating grin grows wider.

“You’re looking at Kenny and Craig, using their supple young bodies to get cash from gross old dudes,” he explains, glancing down at his screen to zoom in on the stranger’s face, “they’re fucking hookers Wendy! Hookers!” He shoves his phone into her face again and Kyle winces when he sees her expression flicker with annoyance.

With a deliberate flick of her wrist, Wendy knocks the phone out of Cartman’s hand and shoots Stan an inquiring look. Stan merely sighs and shakes his head, whilst Kyle just shrugs in response. There is literally no way of eloquently explaining this new round of Cartman’s bullshit.

“What, exactly, would be wrong with Kenny or Craig being sex workers? Besides the fact that they’re barely legal, but somehow I don’t think that’s your concern,” Wendy asks, furrowing her brows, “regardless, so long as they’re being safe and consensual, I really don’t see how it’s any of your business Eric!”

“Does she know that Craig’s back with Tweek?” he murmurs aside to Stan.

“Don’t dude,” Stan mutters back.

“I don’t give a shit if they’re selling themselves, I just wanna know how much money they’re getting,” Cartman rolls his eyes, “Butters had a hooker empire that one time, remember?”

“Oh, I see what’s going on. You want to be their pimp?” Wendy asks, scrutinising him with disbelieving eyes.

“Hey, I just want to make sure they’re being properly represented,” Cartman holds up his palms, “whoring is a dangerous profession; excuse me for wanting to keep my good friends and their assholes safe.”

Wendy rolls her eyes. “And this has nothing to do with getting a percentage of their metaphorical pay?”

“That’s just a bonus! Jesus Wendy, get off my dick!”

Kyle sighs heavily and leans against Stan, eyeing the bickering duo before him with a bored expression. Stan shifts naturally, letting Kyle rest against him in a more comfortable position, not looking up from his phone once.

“I hope she kills him one day,” Kyle murmurs quietly. He feels Stan’s body quiver, hears the quiet chuckles from his friend and has to bite his lip to quell the broad smile threatening to stretch his lips.

“Think your dad could build a case for her?” Stan asks in return, putting his phone down to rest his head atop Kyle’s, watching as Wendy and Cartman continued to hash out the rights of sex workers.

“Yeah, I think she could have a good defense if she plays the provocation card,” Kyle answers, before sighing again, “knowing Cartman, he’ll probably still win from beyond the grave.”

Stan snorts, humming his agreement before he glances up at Kyle, biting at his lip thoughtfully. Kyle watches and inwardly kicks himself for staring too long at that little flash of teeth. Stan’s teeth are a little crooked, but in a cute way, which.

Is so fucking dumb.

What’s cute about _teeth_?

“What if Kenny _is_ a sex worker?” Stan asks, tilting his head.

Kyle considers his question for a moment and then shrugs. “So long as he’s safe and he, like, _wants_ to do it, then… I don’t know? All the more power to him?” he replies, ‘cause. Well. Kenny’s a cool guy and really good friend – it’ll take more than Kenny being a sex worker to put Kyle off being his friend. He just hopes he’s being careful and shit.

“Yeah, I figured as much,” Stan says, before he smiles softly, “you’re a really good friend Kyle.”

Kyle knows he’s fucking blushing, but goddammit, who gave Stan the right to be this fucking sweet?

“Th-Thanks dude,” he chokes out, feeling his hands become all clammy in his gloves. God, he’s so fucking gross, getting all sweaty over a dumb compliment, urgh. What’s wrong with him?

“Boo! Hey, hey assholes! Could you take a break from sucking each other’s dicks to pay attention to me, Christ!” Cartman cries out, utterly obliterating the moment. Stan sighs and his head rolls back onto his shoulders, as Kyle growls darkly, “hey, hey Wendy, how does it feel to know that your boyfriend _also_ has a boyfrie—"

“Could you please just fuck off for one day?” he asks loudly, cutting across Cartman’s dumb comments smoothly. Cartman rears up with outrage, throwing his hands up as he redirects his attention to Kyle, “I’m so done with you this week – just leave Stan alone and shut up about Kenny and Craig being goddamn hookers!”

“Sex workers,” Stan corrects quietly.

“Sex workers!”

“I’m trying to help my friends Kyle!” he says defensively, “and if you don’t like that, well then you can fuck off, you dumb—”

“Let me guess, you’re going to insult my religion?” Kyle interrupts flatly, rolling his eyes. He honestly feels so goddamn exhausted by Cartman’s relentless bullshit; he can’t wait for Kenny to just come out and tell them what he’s doing so this whole sorry saga can fucking _end_ , “honestly, you _have_ to get new material.”

“Yeah, well you can suck my balls,” Cartman sniffs, his phone creaking in his hand as he tightens his grip. Stan rolls his eyes and idly checks his own phone when it pings – Kyle shakes his head and opens his mouth for a rebuttal, but he’s interrupted by Wendy, who sits up and places her hands on her hips.

“Does it hurt you?” she asks silkily, cocking her head, “having to think of such _creative_ and _original_ insults all the time?”

There’s a beat as Cartman gapes at her, his brows knitted together in outrage.

Kyle tries to stifle his giggles, but one glance at Stan’s grin has him bursting out with delighted guffaws. His heart races madly when Wendy shoots him a soft smile – it sharpens when she turns back to Cartman, her eyes glittering dangerously as he rears up with a snarl.

“Fuck you Wendy!” he spits at her.

“You wish Eric!”

“Stan, control your bitch before I—”

“—what? Before you get your ass kicked, again?” Stan finishes with a sigh, “man, just give it a rest.”

“Well, fuck you too Stan!” Cartman hollers, folding his arms across his chest as he sulks, “see if I let you have a cut of my future hooker empire!”

“You have such a bright future ahead of you,” Wendy mutters; Kyle hears her and can’t quite repress his snickers. Wendy catches his eye and grins conspiratorially at him, which. Urgh, has him choking on his own laughter, ‘cause goddammit. Wendy sure is pretty when she smiles all mischievously like that.

“We should hang out again,” she suggests, gently placing her hand on Kyle’s shoulder; Stan and Cartman continue to bicker in the background, “without any _interruptions_ next time.”

Cartman overhears her pointed comment and mimics her crudely behind her back. Kyle barely pays him any notice though – his shoulder feels impossible warm and he knows his cheeks are flushing pink, because Wendy is _so_ close, and she smells _so_ good and now Stan is smiling at him too and his heart honestly feels like it’s going to _burst_.

“Y-Yeah,” he stammers, flipping Cartman off when the asshole starts mocking him instead, “sounds good to me!”

His voice cracks halfway through and inwardly he prays for the ground to open and swallow him whole.

Jesus Christ, what is wrong with him?

* * *

“You should tell them.”

“Like hell, I’m gonna—”

“Seriously, just tell them before this all gets worse.”

“But—”

“Just. Tell them.”

* * *

“Guys, guys, seriously, guys!”

Kyle’s body deflates as he hears Cartman’s excitable shouts – he just wanted _one_ damn day without encountering the fat fuck, but well. Fuck. He leans against Stan and feels his friend’s body tremble with stifled laughter.

“I’m going to kill him,” he murmurs, glancing at the cinema longingly. They had been moments away from slipping inside and having a Super Best Friend Date, but _no._ Cartman just has to come along and ruin it.

“If I had a dollar for every time those words come out of your mouth,” Stan says wistfully, tilting his head atop Kyle’s. Kyle snorts and pulls away from his friend, shaking his head fondly.

“Dude, you’re already loaded, how could you possibly want more money?” he asks, arching a brow.

“Just to make a point,” Stan replies, shoving his hands into his pockets, “goddammit, here he comes.”

Sure enough, Cartman runs up to them with Butters in tow – his face his bright red and he leans over, clutching at his knees as he tries to catch his breath. Butters looks a little flushed, but also apologetic as he waves awkwardly at Stan and Kyle.

“Hey fellas,” he says cheerily, “how’s it going?”

“Hey Butters,” Stan replies with a short wave back, “and… it _was_ going just fine.”

“Fuck you Stan,” Cartman gasps, righting himself up as a grin plasters itself across his face, “now, listen up assholes. I finally managed to track down the place that Kenny and Craig are hitting up! We can go there tonight and bust them!”

“Are you serious?” Kyle asks, furrowing his brows, “how did you track it down?”

“Anonymous text,” Cartman replies briskly, waving off Kyle’s question.

“Anonymou—” Stan cuts himself off, pinching the bridge of his nose before he flicks his gaze up to Butters, “dude, are you _still_ going along with this shit?”

“I, ah, didn’t actually want to… Eric, uh, didn’t really give me a choice though,” Butters says sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. Kyle and Stan swap a dry look as Cartman snorts derisively.

“Are you kidding me Butters?” he asks irately, “what, you worried you’re gonna see Kenny getting on his knees for someone else?”

“Dude!” Stan admonishes, scandalised.

“What, I’m just saying – I’m trying to help you Butters, you know that, right?” Cartman asks, but Butters merely knocks his knuckles and worries his lip.

“W-Well, that’s sure nice of you, but I don’t really remember asking you for help,” the blond says, squinting at Cartman when he scoffs in response.

“Yeah Cartman,” Stan adds, “besides, Butters doesn’t _need_ help. He just needs to ask Kenny out!”

“Yeah, okay Stan, ‘cause Butters is seriously gonna take advice from _you_ ,” Cartman scoffs, which rankles Kyle’s nerves something fierce, “how about you practice what you preach, dumbass.”

“You know what Cartman?” he begins, straightening up with a clenched jaw, “you need to lay off Stan; I don’t know _what_ you have over him, but you have to—”

“Oh, oh look guy, oh guys, look, Kyle’s getting pissy because I’m being mean to his boyfriend,” Cartman groans loudly, throwing his hands into the air, “who is shocked?”

“Cartman!”

“Who is genuinely surprised by this development?”

“ _Cartman_!”

“Who is— ah, _fuck_!” Cartman yelps when Kyle lands a solid punch to his fleshy arm. He clutches it and casts a wounded look across the table, his brows creased together as he pouts, “Stan, say something!”

“I honestly don’t know what you want me to do,” Stan says, shaking his head and he turns away to glance at his phone. Cartman frowns at him, before he turns to Kyle – there’s a momentary beat of silence as a contemplative glint passes through the brunet’s mismatched eyes. Kyle feels apprehension bubble in his gut – goddammit, he should’ve stayed at home today.

“Look Kyle, I’ll bet you $20 that we’ll find Kenny and Craig choking on some old dude’s dong _tonight_ ,” he says, smirking knowingly.

Goddammit.

“Don’t do it dude,” Stan warns.

Butters eyes him warily and shrugs.

Oh, _goddammit_.

“Make it $25,” he bites out, ‘cause if he’s being dragged along for this dumb ride, he might as well steal Cartman’s cash too.

Stan sighs.

Butters knocks his knuckles again.

“It’s a done deal, douchebag,” Cartman grins, his lips curling upwards into a sharp, gleeful grin. Kyle already feels his patience snapping, ‘cause he’s so over this fucking nonsense, “tonight, we finally find out what those fuckers are up to.”

Well.

At least it’ll finally be over.

* * *

Despite winning, Butters doesn’t think Kyle will get his $25.

“ _Night_ school?” Cartman says, his tone caught between dismay and hysteria, “fucking night school?”

Craig folds his arms, looking completely unruffled by Cartman’s reaction. They had caught Kenny and Craig leaving a bus just outside their old elementary school; Cartman had ambushed them instantly with his phone, taking photos as he loudly accused them of being cheapskate hookers. Craig had taken one look at Cartman’s device before deftly knocking it out of the brunet’s hand with a roll of his eyes.

What had ensued next was Cartman bitching Craig out for cracking his screen, whilst Kenny cackled with delight – once he had calmed down, he had managed to explain the whole thing in less than two minutes, as well as confessing that he had sent Cartman the text, but from Karen’s phone.

“Yeah dude, fucking night school,” Kenny confirms, gesturing to the bags that he and Craig were holding, “that dude in the photo you got? He ain’t no trick, he’s our _tutor_ , dumbass.”

Butters just _knows_ that after a week of being harassed by Cartman, Kyle feels incredibly disappointed upon learning the truth.

“What?” Cartman spits out, “what the fuck are you going to _night_ school for?”

Craig rolls his eyes and pointedly looks away, tapping quickly at his phone. Kenny must take that as his cue to answer the dumb questions, as he sighs and turns to face the group with a tight smile on his face.

“‘Cause dude, you’re not the only one who wants to get into college,” Kenny shoves his hands into his pockets and shrugs, “some of us have to do a little extra credit.”

Butters feels such _pride_ swell up in his gut, ‘cause wow.

Kenny is.

Kenny is just.

He’s so.

 _Wow_.

“Holy shit, nice one Kenny!” Kyle praises, beaming.

“Yeah, totally dude! Good for you,” Stan says with a bright smile, “and well, you too Craig.”

“Wow,” Craig deadpans, though his tone is a little warm and his eyes crinkle at the edges, “thanks.”

“Fucking _night_ school?” Cartman repeats, like a broken record or a dumb parrot.

“Yes, Cartman,” Kenny rolls his eyes, “fucking night school – sorry to crush your dreams, but the only things we’ve been sucking is knowledge, not dicks. Well,” he turns to Craig and sticks his tongue out, “pretty sure you’ve sucked Tweek’s dick, lucky fucker.”

“I’m telling him you’ve talked about his dick,” Craig mutters, pointedly tapping harder on his phone.

“Tattletale,” Kenny sticks out his tongue again.

Kyle watches the exchange with an arched brow and shares a silent look with Stan.

 _Dang,_ no wonder Cartman got jealous…

“See guys, see what happens when you wallow in poverty,” Cartman sighs, clucking his tongue as he begins to wag his finger in his best friend’s face, “I told you to do better Kenny, I said, stop being poor, it’s gonna fuck you over, but you just wouldn’t listen and now look where that’s gotten you—”

“Dude, being poor’s got fuck all to do with it! I spent half my time at school being _dead_ and he spent his,” Kenny says, his tone getting slightly heated as he points at Craig, “in detention, of course we had to fucking catch up.”

Craig nods as he taps away at his phone.

“Teachers are way too sensitive nowadays,” he adds blandly, “they ask for your opinion and when you give it, it’s like they don’t even appreciate you having your own mind.”

“Dude, they probably don’t appreciate you telling them that a child with half a brain could explain Halley’s comet better than them,” Kenny says wryly.

“Whatever. I still stand by my statement.”

“Wait, wait, wait. Don’t you just reset when you die?” Kyle interjects hesitantly – and even Butters winces, ‘cause Kenny is still a little _sensitive_ about his immortality, “like, your schoolwork doesn’t get to reset too?”

Kenny shakes his head. “Nah dude,” he answers, shoving his hands into his pockets, “the school just thinks I’ve been lazy as fuck and unwilling to do my shit. Shows how much they fucking know.”

“Aw man, that sucks.”

“Yeah, tell me about it. Gotta do that shit _twice_.”

Butters’ heartstrings are tugged, and he feels himself wanting to tuck Kenny into his arms and shield him from how horrible the world can be – but Kenny doesn’t really need him to do that. Kenny’s stronger than most people give him credit for…

Still.

Butters _would_ like to help him out.

“Goddammit,” Cartman sighs, looking incredibly disappointed, “we could’ve made so much fucking _money_ – but no, you two assholes just had to be stingy with your asses. What, you poor bitches think you’re too good for sex work?” Cartman doesn’t let them answer, despite Craig’s irritated glower, as he sighs and rubs a hand across his face, “so much wasted potential. God, I hate you two so much.”

Kenny rolls his eyes and mockingly clutches at his heart.

Craig sighs irritably as his gaze drifts across the group.

“Okay, if I stay any longer, I’ll end up killing him, so I’m going home now,” he announces, turning on his heel as he nods at Kenny, “see you tomorrow.”

“Later dude,” Kenny calls back, waving at Craig’s slowly diminishing form. He sighs and turns back to Cartman, who still looks incredibly irritated; he smiles lazily, despite the flat look in his eyes as he waltzes up to the fuming brunet, “I’m sorry honey, was I neglecting you? Did you feel lonely without me? Oh, please forgive me baby, it won’t happen again.”

Cartman chokes and flushes at Kenny’s sickly sweet crooning. “Damn right it won’t happen again!” he snaps, thrusting a finger in Kenny’s face, “you don’t get to just do this shit to me!”

Butters furrows his brow – huh, Cartman really is pretty insecure.

He’s honestly… bewildered that he’s _this_ surprised.

Kenny nods easily. “Damn sweetie, I’m just the worst best friend ever, huh?” he says, throwing Butters a sly wink. Butters bites his lip and ducks his head – Kenny really is so funny and cute and… and it’s so hard to be mad at him when he looks this adorably impish.

“Well, no shit,” Cartman scolds, crossing his arms, “and would you quit it with this gay shit?”

“Ouch, breaking up with me already?”

“Like I’d ever stoop so low to date your ass! You have to go to _night_ school to get into college and, and god knows where you’ve been,” Cartman sneers, giving Kenny a critical once-over, “you probably collect diseases like Stan collects dumb crushes! Sorry dude, but I have _standards_ and you fail to meet any of them!”

Stan bites out a curse.

Kyle sighs heavily.

Kenny rolls his eyes.

Butters?

Butters feels himself just…

He just.

He just _snaps_.

“N-Now see here Eric!” he barks, because he’s getting a little sick and tired of all the slander being thrown at Kenny, “Kenny is just doing his best to get into college and well, I think that’s downright admirable! Not, not everyone can just up and get great grades, some people have to work hard for them and I, well, I think that’s even better! I think you’re just being a Bitter Billy ‘cause he’s tryna make something of himself and all you can contribute to society is dumb jokes that were funny ten years ago—”

“Isn’t Cartman going to Yale?” Kyle whispers in an aside to Stan.

“Yeah, but I think he blackmailed the president,” Stan murmurs back, eyes wide as he stares at Butters in shock, “I heard him bragging about it to Wendy a few weeks ago.”

“—and if you think that you’re somehow better than Kenny a-and Craig too, I guess, then I have some news for you mister! You’re nothing but a no-good, a no-good _dick_! Whilst the rest of us are supporting each other a-and looking out for our friends, you’re just stuck in this rut of dragging everyone down until they’re, well, until they’re just as miserable as you! So, so you better leave Kenny and, and Craig alone mister!”

“Holy shit,” Stan utters, awed as Cartman cowers for a moment before rearing up when Butters takes the time to steady his breathing.

“Damn Butters,” Cartman drawls, narrowing his eyes dangerously, “you want to me to unzip Kenny’s pants and hold his dick for you too?”

“And another thing!” Butters bites out, stamping his foot with a frustrated expression, “you need to come to terms with whatever hang-ups you have with a fella sticking up for his friends! It’s not about putting p-penises in each other, so, so you just need to _stop_ saying that!”

“Well screw you too Butters – I haven’t got hang-ups!” Cartman protests angrily, before turning to Kyle and Stan, “do you guys think I have hang-ups?”

“I’m out,” Stan declares, before neatly turning on his heel and leaving.

“W-What— Stan!” Cartman cries out, before refocusing on Kyle, “come on Kyle, I don’t have hang-ups, right?”

Kyle blinks at him before he turns to chase after Stan. “Hey, wait up dude!” he cries out, hurrying after his friend quickly.

Butters watches as Cartman flails uselessly, throwing insults at them and making threats that are most likely not empty. He’d probably have to keep an eye out for Cartman’s style of karmic retribution in the future, but right now he feels too mad to be too concerned.

Cartman pauses in his rant to face Butters and Kenny again – Kenny had been silent during the whole argument which wasn’t too unusual, but Butters still wants to see the expression on his face. He wants to know if he’s overstepped some kinda unseen boundary, or if, and this is more likely, Kenny just finds this whole situation hilarious.

Either way, Butters can’t quite bring himself to face Kenny, so he just focuses on Cartman and inwardly wishes the fat boy would give him a reason to unleash his building rage. It’s been years since they’ve played superheroes, but Professor Chaos can still make an appearance if the situation calls for it.

“Well,” Cartman huffs, a sign that he’s run out of steam and will probably go home to properly plan out his revenge, “screw you guys, I’m going home.”

 _Shocking_.

Cartman stalks away, muttering darkly under his breath as he does so.

It takes Butters ten whole seconds before he realises that he’s now alone with Kenny. He feels his neck prickle in a way that only happens when he’s being watched; normally, the person staring at him wants to kick his ass, but after quickly glancing over his shoulder, he knows that, for once, that isn’t the case.

Kenny’s staring at him with something like _awe_ in his eyes and. And a glimmer of _something else_. Like, his pupils are all big and his cheeks are sorta flushed, and.

And.

 _Wow_.

He really is kinda pretty.

“Uh, so… oh _hamburgers_ , congrats? For getting your extra credit?” Butters cheers lamely, turning towards Kenny with a bowed head, 'cause he can’t really handle being looked at like _that_ for long, “um, guess you’re headin’ off to college, huh?”

Kenny chuckles – Butters startles at the noise, head snapping up to see Kenny smiling at him, scratching the back of his head with a shrug.

“I guess? Mr Mackey always wanted me to go into counselling, so he’s sent me a bunch of prospectuses?” he explains, appearing uncertain, “I don’t know, I think I’m gonna give it a year – Kevin says he’s gonna come back to look after Karen next May, which would help. He’s, uh, super excited about a McCormick going to college, y’know?”

“Aw gee, Kenny,” Butters murmurs warmly, “I think you’d be a swell counsellor.”

Kenny blinks, looking genuinely flattered and surprised for a second before a sweet smile plays on his lips.

“Thanks Leo,” he chirps, ducking his head self-consciously. Butters slowly takes in the sight and bites his lip, wonders if he should make his move now – his hands are clammy and his mind suddenly blanks. All of his scripts and planned confessions suddenly vanish from memory and Butters can only curse himself for not being prepared. Unfortunately, the sweet moment only lasts a couple of seconds, as Kenny’s eyes are already gleaming naughtily. “So,” he drawls, arching a brow, “you thought I was a hooker, huh?”

Butters immediately feels his face burn with embarrassment as Kenny grins at him with delight.

“I also thought you’d be a good one?” he says, like that’s any better.

Kenny rolls his eyes. “No fuckin’ shit, I’d be awesome,” he declares without a shred of shame, “but I’m not that desperate for cash yet. It’s not really a good trade to get into in this shithole town anyways and... well, I don’t really want that shit around Karen either.”

Butters feels himself melt under the warm look Kenny has on his face as he talks about his sister – he selfishly wants to be the reason for that expression, he wants to be the cause for Kenny’s unadulterated happiness. 

Which is darn selfish of him, but it’s true.

“You’re a real good brother Kenny,” he praises softly, awe leaking into his voice as his eyes flick over Kenny’s face. He can barely see the freckles, which is a shame, but Kenny still looks really pretty under the lit lampposts – even more so when he softly flushes from the compliment.

“Thanks, I try,” he half-shrugs with a small laugh that has Butters’ eyes focusing in on his lips.

They’re red from the cold and Kenny has clearly been biting them recently because they’re peeling something awful; it has Butters itching for his Chapstick because god only knows that Kenny desperately needs one. He isn’t quite sure how long they stand there for, but eventually Kenny starts to giggle, either from nerves or genuine humour, Butters can’t quite tell, but it’s still a mesmerising sound.

“Dude, the way you’re looking at me… it’s like you wanna kiss me or something,” he says, his voice a low murmur that has Butters’ skin rippling with anticipation. “It’ll cost you though – $2, and that’s with the friends and family discount.” He winks at Butters, all sly like a minx.

Butters swallows hard as his hands curl up into clammy fists. He bites his lip as he tries to quell the bundle of nerves and nausea in his stomach – Butters isn’t sure what expression his face makes, but it has Kenny shying away, laughing self-consciously as he rubs a hand down his face.

“Just kidding dude,” he says weakly, stepping back as he averts his eyes. “Seriously, don’t look so scared, I wouldn’t actually—”

Butters can’t quite tell where the courage comes from, but it blossoms fierce and sudden, and it has him cupping Kenny’s face to smash their lips together. He winces as their teeth clash and their noses roughly bump, but he doesn’t care. His nerves are on fire, his thoughts scatter and crumble, until only one is left behind, burning bright and fierce in his mind’s eye: he is kissing Kenny McCormick. He has Kenny McCormick in his arms and he’s kissing his lips and he is never letting this boy go. He feels Kenny’s frozen body slowly melt, the apparent shock giving way to something hopefully more positive. Kenny’s arms slowly loop around his neck until he’s being tugged and pulled and pressed flush against Kenny’s warm body. A tongue invades his mouth, swipes across his teeth and slowly encourages him to hesitantly press back, to lick and tangle their tongues together until his lungs burn and his heart pounds. They break away with choked gasps, with only a thin string of saliva connecting them until it bungees down between their bodies and breaks off wetly.

As they stare at each other, Butters feels himself flush hotly from receiving Kenny’s full attention, but he can’t quite tear his gaze away. Kenny’s eyes are dark – like Mysterion’s, but with Princess Kenny’s playful sparkle – and heavy-lidded, his lashes brushing against his pink cheeks which bookend reddened wet lips. He is so darn beautiful, and Butters wants to march him over to his house and show him off to his closeted father and his detached mother, because he did this. He went out, by himself, and he managed to get the most beautiful boy in all of South Park – his folks never thought he’d ever amount to much but look at him now.

“Holy shit dude,” Kenny breathes, biting at his lip as he glances away, “that was pretty sweet.”

“N’aw, it was nothing,” Butters whispers, ducking his head. His hands slowly fall from Kenny’s face, his fingers trailing across Kenny’s jawline and down his throat until they rest loosely on his shoulder, “um, we should probably head home, huh?”

“You gonna escort me?” Kenny asks, his arms falling to his sides. Butters glances up and sees the delighted grin on Kenny’s pretty face.

“Only the best for my princess,” Butters says, smiling widely when Kenny coos and pretends to swoon against him. They used to play this silly game all the time when they were kids – Princess Kenny and her loyal Paladin, having scandalous affairs behind the Wizard King’s back, whilst planning coups and betrayals. It had been fun, and he wouldn’t mind playing again – although, perhaps this time around there could be less revolutions and more affairs?

“Allow me to guide the way, my princess,” Butters says, stepping aside and faking a low bow. Kenny pitches his voice and giggles, holding out his hand for Butters to kiss sweetly.

Kenny titters again, clearly delighted when Butters tangles their fingers together and slowly swings their hands back and forth. They make their way past the Community Centre, towards the neighbourhood – it’s getting late, but neither of them are in any rush to get home. The night sky is pretty clear and if Butters squints, he can spy a few stars twinkling above them – he wonders if Kenny likes stuff like that.

Stars and planets and shit.

He knows that Tweek took Craig to the Planetarium for his birthday last year – Craig couldn’t stop talking about it for weeks. Maybe Kenny would like it too?

“H-Hey Kenny?” Butters asks nervously, suddenly aware that his hands are getting clammy in Kenny’s grip. Oddly, it doesn’t seem to bother the other boy – if anything, Kenny’s grip just grew tighter, his thumb rubbing circles into the meat of Butters’ fist.

Kenny hums in response, glancing at him curiously.

Butters flushes and averts his eyes.

“Do you wanna go out with me sometime?”

There’s a tiny beat of silence, where all Butters can hear is his own pounding heartbeat and the breeze rustling the nearby trees.

“You’re asking me out on a date?” Kenny asks, and he almost sounds bewildered, but Butters can hear the clear disbelieving mirth threading through the words.

“Well gee, if you’re just gonna laugh at me—"

“I don’t know,” Kenny interrupts, musing slow and hoarse, “my standard rate is $1 an hour. It’ll be an extra five cents if you expect me to laugh at your jokes and an extra ten if you wan—”

“You’re selling yourself too short,” Butters says dryly, “as an ex-pimp, I can tell you that you should always charge triple your original price so that when your client gets all uppity ‘bout how expensive you is, you can always barter down to double your price. They feel like they’re getting a deal and you’re raking in more cash than you thought!”

Kenny blinks, looking pleasantly surprised. “Damn. So like, as an ex-pimp, how much d’ya think I’m really worth?” he asks, tilting his head with an easy grin. Butters knows that Kenny is notoriously hard to offend but very easy to hurt – he sees it in the small insecure tic of his lips, the sad gleam in his eyes. Kenny has endless bounds of confidence, but that doesn’t mean his self-esteem is untouchable. Being the best friend of Eric Cartman probably doesn’t help – the bastard’s words could thicken your skin, but they can also reveal your biggest insecurities, even ones you never knew you had.

“Aw gee Kenny, I think you’re priceless,” Butters says, soft and low, his breath coming out in thin wisps in the cold mountain air.

Kenny’s flushed cheeks darken, his eyes widening as a laugh falls from his lips.

“Holy shit, I was just making a joke, but you had to make it all cute and serious and shit,” he says, averting his eyes as he bites his lip. He’s flustered and it’s hopelessly endearing.

“What? It’s true,” Butters says, feeling oddly confident enough to tease Kenny, to kick him lightly against his ankle.

“Nah man, be real,” Kenny says, his voice still subdued and shy, “I gotta be worth more than Craig though, right?”

Butters snorts and shakes his head.

“Dude. I’m worth more than Craig, right? Like, how much d’ya think guys would pay for him? I mean, dude could probably charge pretty high, but I don’t think guys would think he’s worth the dollar once Tweek beats them into a coma.”

Butter says nothing as he flexes his fingers around Kenny’s hand.

“—like, Craig _thinks_ he has blowjob lips, but they’re thin as shit, I don’t care how many times Tweek says otherwise—”

He’s incredibly warm as Kenny’s rant washes over him, his words cascading into the air as wisps of smoky breath.

“—and I have a prettier o-face, seriously, it’s gonna knock you the fuck out, I am damn beautiful in bed, I gotta be worth at least twice as much as Craig _fuckin’_ Tucker—”

“Ain’t you friends with him?” Butters asks curiously, interjecting when Kenny’s words begin sounding a touch acidic.

“Oh yeah, dude’s fuckin’ cool, we’re like three hangouts away from sharing BFF necklaces,” Kenny says, his previous demeanour instantly slipping away as he adopts a sunnier disposition.

The change is almost whip-lash inducing.

“Does Cartman know that?” Butters asks knowingly, squinting at Kenny with shrewd eyes.

“Dude, I ain’t fuckin’ crazy man,” Kenny snorts, squeezing Butters’ hand slightly, “Cartman would fucking murder Craig and then he would get murdered by Tweek and trust me, the last thing Tweek fucking needs is a life-sentence in maximum security.”

“And the last thing _hell_ needs is Cartman taking over,” Butters adds, his eyes glazing over at the horrific thought.

Kenny shudders. “Amen to that,” he murmurs, his eyes growing dull. He shakes his head and shoots Butters a sweet smile, “come on, we should get you home – pretty sure your dad will throw a shit-fit if he finds out how late you stayed out.”

“Yeah,” Butters agrees solemnly, “can’t exactly go on any dates if I get grounded.”

Kenny’s eyes light up excitedly, an extra skip appearing in his step, as he begins to list all the dates they could go on, from attending Karen’s dance recitals to heading down to Denver to fuck around in the arcades.

NASCAR comes up at least twice.

Butters listens quietly, grinning, and knows that the threat of being grounded isn’t enough to scare him away from spending time with this boy…

If they take the scenic route back to his house, then it’s purely coincidental.

* * *

“So… are you gonna tell me what big secret Cartman has over you, because I can beat it out of him, don’t think I won’t,” Kyle says, lazily swinging next to Stan.

The park is empty and eerily still – it’s getting late, ‘cause it’s dark as shit out here and his mom will definitely be pissed when he finally gets home, but he’s tired of dragging this shit out. The swings were empty, and it just seemed like the perfect moment to finally get the truth out of Stan.

Stan’s fists are loosely clenched on the chains connecting the swing to the frame, his gaze concentrated on the ground beneath them. Kyle can’t remember the last time Stan actually met his gaze and it frustrates him beyond his comprehension.

“Dude,” he says softly, nudging Stan’s ankles gently, “come on, you can trust me. Is it blackmail? Is he blackmailing you? Cause he’s a poor fat fuck and you’re loaded from your dad’s drug empire?”

Stan releases a soft huff of amusement and flicks Kyle a shy glance.

“You know, sometimes you really sound like—”

“I _swear_ , if you say what I think you’re about to say, I _will_ leave and _never_ speak to you again,” Kyle interrupts hotly, shooting Stan an acidic glare. Stan holds up his hands as he giggles and looks away, biting his lip as the mirth on his face melts away to consternation.

“Kyle, I have to tell you something,” he forces out, his grip on the chains tightening as he kicks at the gravel.

“Okay, what is it?” Kyle murmurs, his swaying slowly coming to a stop as he watched Stan’s brows knit together from frustration. “Hey, it’s okay if you can’t tell me, you don’t need to force yourself. I think I learned something today, people are allowed to have secrets and so long as no one’s getting hurt, then it isn’t really anyone’s right to uncover those secrets, y’know? So, whatever it is that’s bugging you, you don’t have to—”

“You don’t make me throw up,” Stan rushes out, his cheeks tinged pink and his eyes clenched shut, “like, a lot of shit around here makes me sick. Our school, my dad, a good eighty percent of this goddamn town’s population – but you. You never make me feel sick – I mean, like. Wendy too, obviously. But you. You make me feel. God, this is so _gay_ , I sound like fucking _Craig_ – shit. You make me feel good. You’ve always made me feel good. Like, like when I’m mad or depressed, I just think of you and yeah, okay, I’m not magically cured, b-but I don’t feel so shitty? There. Done. I said it.”

Kyle blinks.

“Okay? You,” he starts, pauses, frowns and tries again because _what the fuck_? “You make me feel good too?”

Stan’s eyes fly open as he peers desperately into Kyle’s face; he inaudibly gulps as Stan’s dark blue eyes focus in on his face, intense and searching – he looks oddly disappointed by whatever he finds though, because his whole body deflates and he looks down again, at the ground where his feet continue to kick at the gravel.

“Goddammit,” Stan mutters. Kyle’s heart twists at how fucking sad Stan sounds and he wants to fix it, but he isn’t really sure how.

“I’m sorry?” he says, asks, because he’s somewhat aware that this isn’t how Stan wants the conversation to go, but he’s honestly so fucking confused because what does Stan want from him?

“You make Wendy feel good too,” Stan urges desperately, likes he’s trying to emphasise something, but Kyle is clearly missing something here because seriously, what the fuck has that got to do with anything?

“Okay?” he replies lamely, despite the loud roaring of blood rushing in his ears. Wendy is pretty and smart – he always liked being her friend and had figured that being liked in return was important considering she’s Stan’s girlfriend but this? This felt different, “that’s… good? I mean, it would suck if she hated being around me so that’s… that’s cool?”

“Cool,” Stan repeats flatly, looking incredibly frustrated as he pinches the bridge of his nose. He mutters something about ‘letting Wendy do this shit’, but the rest of it is inaudible and mostly consists of self-depreciative insults.

It literally clears up _nothing_.

“Yeah, cool,” Kyle echoes in response, blinking at Stan in confusion before dropping his gaze to the ground. He aimlessly kicks at the stones by his feet and wonders when, exactly, talking to Stan had become so difficult.

The air is chilled between them as they swing quietly – it had been years since they had just hung out like this, together in the park. It was quite nice.

Though… he couldn’t help but feel like _something_ was missing. The feeling prickles his skin, his nerves itch and his body feels restless – he really can’t put his finger on it, but he knows that this moment they’re having isn’t really complete.

He sighs, swings a little and checks his watch – it’s slowly crawling towards midnight and he can already hear his mom’s bitch-fit. He flicks a glance at Stan and takes in his best friend’s profile; the bags under his eyes are incredibly profound and his cheeks are ashen. He looks exhausted and Kyle knows that they both need sleep; he brings his swing to a slow stop and kicks out at Stan’s ankle.

“Listen, my mom is gonna kill me when she finds out how late I’ve stayed out,” he says, breaking the fragile silence resting in the air, “you wanna head home?”

“Nah, I’m gonna head to Wendy’s,” Stan says as he pushes himself off the swing. He pauses as he passes Kyle and glances down at him with a small crooked grin, “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

There’s an odd little beat where they just stare at each other – Kyle can’t quite make out the emotion in Stan’s eyes, but it makes him feel warm and he can feel his cheeks prickle with heat. It’s only when Stan’s gaze flickers away nervously that Kyle remembers that he’s still waiting for an answer.

“Y-Yeah, sure dude,” he gets out, voice strangled – he doesn’t know why, but he feels oddly shy under Stan’s gaze. He’s never noticed it before, but Stan’s eyes are kinda pretty under the moonlight; they’re dark blue, sparkling and bright, framed by thick lashes. It’s a totally gay observation to make, but _fuck_ it, it’s been a gay couple of weeks.

“Well, see you later,” Stan smiles before he walks out of the park and disappears into the dark of the night.

Kyle watches as Stan’s silhouette slowly fades away, his heart beating furiously – it’s not unlike the sensation he had when Wendy insulted Cartman on his behalf. He slowly places a hand over his chest and sighs – he knows what the feeling is and what it means. He’ll probably unpack all this bullshit at a later date when he’s had at least eight hours of sleep, but whatever the case, Kyle plans on keeping that shit to himself… his track record with crushes isn’t exactly great, and he doesn’t really count on Stan and Wendy reciprocating whatever is going on in his head.

Also?

He’d _never_ forgive himself if fucking _Cartman_ found out.

* * *

“You said _what_?”

“It made sense to me!”

“Well, of course, it made sense to you, but there’s plenty of people who don’t make you throw up – how is Kyle supposed to realise that he’s special to us with that kind of confession?”

“I panicked.”

“I told you we should’ve done this together—”

“I _panicked_.”

“—honestly, never send a man to do a woman’s job!”

* * *

Kyle wakes up at exactly 7.00am the next day to see a new text on his phone.

Two minutes later, Ike wakes up to the sound of his brother shrieking loudly and has to restrain himself from smothering Kyle with a pillow when he finds out why.

**Author's Note:**

> potential texts from wendy:  
> \- hey kyle, stan and i really like you, will you go out with us?  
> \- kyle, stan and i would like to take you out for a date, what do you say?  
> \- stan messed up, he meant to say that we have a crush on you kyle, do you like us too?
> 
> \- GOOGLE POLYAMORY AND HELP ME WITH STAN, JESUS FUCK


End file.
